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In 1977, when Zhongmei Lei was eleven years old, she learned that the prestigious Beijing Dance Academy was having open auditions. She'd already taken dance lessons, but everyone said a poor country girl would never get into the academy, especially without any connections in the Communist Party of the 1970s. But Zhongmei, whose name means Faithful Plum, persisted, even going on a hunger strike, until her parents agreed to allow her to go. She traveled for three days and two nights to get to Beijing ...
In 1977, when Zhongmei Lei was eleven years old, she learned that the prestigious Beijing Dance Academy was having open auditions. She'd already taken dance lessons, but everyone said a poor country girl would never get into the academy, especially without any connections in the Communist Party of the 1970s. But Zhongmei, whose name means Faithful Plum, persisted, even going on a hunger strike, until her parents agreed to allow her to go. She traveled for three days and two nights to get to Beijing and eventually beat out 60,000 other girls for one of 12 coveted spots. But getting in was easy compared to staying in, as Zhongmei soon learned. Without those all-important connections she was just a little girl on her own, far away from family. But her determination, talent, and sheer force of will were not something the teachers or other students expected, and soon it was apparent that Zhongmei was not to be underestimated.
Zhongmei became a famous dancer, and founded her own dance company, which made its New York debut when she was in just her late 20s. In A Girl Named Faithful Plum, her husband and renowned journalist, Richard Bernstein, has written a fascinating account of one girl's struggle to go from the remote farmlands of China to the world's stages, and the lengths she went to in order to follow her dream.
In 1978, an 11-year-old girl fights poverty and prejudice with gutsy perseverance and talent to fulfill her dream of studying at the Beijing Dance Academy.
Faithful Plum, or Zhongmei, lives in a remote area of China near Siberia. The standard of living is so low that she and her siblings eat one egg a year on their birthdays. She loves to dance, though, and upon hearing that the Academy is holding national auditions she sets her mind on going. And go she does, when a hunger strike and the kindness of her community overcome her parents' initial refusal. After a horrific three-day journey by trains and buses, Zhongmei comes through the difficult audition only to face an extreme daily regimen of exercise and instruction, an appallingly rigid dormitory supervisor and a ballet teacher scarred by the Cultural Revolution. Fortunately, a wise and kindly administrator recognizes her extraordinary talent. Bernstein, a noted columnist and author of books on China, is married to Zhongmei, who enjoyed a noteworthy career. In his first book for children, he has taken her voice as his own and written a riveting account of her first year at the Academy. The conversations ring true, albeit "imagined," and events have been compressed to keep the pace flowing.
A fascinating and memorable account of a life and times difficult to imagine today. (glossary) (Historical fiction. 10-14)
Starred Review, Kirkus Reviews, September 1, 2011:
"A fascinating and memorable account of a life and times difficult to imagine today."
Booklist, September 15, 2011:
Leaving her poor, remote village in 1978, 11-year-old Zhongmei Li traveled an arduous three-day journey to audition for the Beijing Dance Academy. At the end of the highly competitive seven-stage competition, despite her rural background and lack of connections, she was one of the few girls selected. At the academy, a rigid dormitory supervisor and hostile teacher make life miserable for the young student, but the resolute Zhongmei survives the eight-year training and becomes a successful dancer. Written by her U.S. husband, this biography follows the steely, determined dancer through many adversities up to her academy graduation. Although the narrative is occasionally overly descriptive, it is packed with cultural information. It explains, for example, how a list of names is organized for posting, as there is no alphabetical order in Chinese. Inspiring for would-be dancers, Zhongmei Li’s gritty success story is also a revealing window into post-Mao China. — Linda Perkins
One sunny morning in 1978 in the remote, very northernmost part of China, a slight eleven-year-old girl named Zhongmei Li got on a bus for the first leg of a journey to Beijing, China's capital. Zhongmei had gotten up that morning as she always did, to the sound of roosters crowing and hens clucking in nearby yards. She was so excited, hopeful, and nervous that she could barely eat the breakfast of rice porridge and corn fritters that her older sister Zhongqin made for her, because this was indeed a very big event in the life of a young girl who had never been more than a few hours from her hometown. It was even a noteworthy event for the town itself, a place called Baoquanling, most of whose residents had never been to Beijing and never expected to go.
When Zhongmei got to the bus station, just a patch of open ground alongside the town's main street, she found that most of the people she knew were there to see her off—her classmates from her fifth grade in elementary school, her neighbors, and a few of her teachers. Her two older sisters, her older brother, and her younger one had accompanied her to the bus station as well, though her mother and father couldn't be there because, like all the adults in this region of China, they had to put in a full day of work, whether their daughters were heading off to Beijing or not. In all the trip would take three days and two nights on two buses and two trains. But Zhongmei wouldn't be alone. On the first part of the journey to Jiamusi, which was two buses and four hours away, she was going to be accompanied by Zhongqin, who was not only the older of her sisters but was also her best friend.
"We're going to miss you," one of her classmates called out as Zhongmei and Zhongqin turned to get on the bus.
"I'll miss you too," Zhongmei replied.
"Do your best," one of her teachers said, raising a clenched fist in the air, looking a bit like a figure in one of the posters that were up all over China in those days, urging people to fight for the revolution. "Try hard. Be strong."
"I will," said Zhongmei.
Zhongmei shook hands all around, gave her younger brother a pat on the head, hugged her second sister, and smiled at her older brother, who gave her a cheerful thumbs-up. Standing on the first step of the bus entrance, she took one last look around the place where she had spent her whole life. Baoquanling was about as remote as remote gets in China, pressed against the border with Russian Siberia, blazing hot in summer, freezing in winter, battered by strong winds in the spring and fall. The air on this early morning was cool and fresh, though it would get scorching hot in a little while. The sky was a pale blue stained with yellow dust and streaked with high, thin clouds. A Chinese flag, five white stars on a field of red, hung limply from a nearby flagpole. Through a gap in the buildings that lined Bao-quan-ling's main street, Zhongmei could see a row of men and women, pitchforks and rakes slung over their shoulders like rifles, marching out to the wheat and vegetable fields of the Baoquanling State Farm.
Zhongmei and Zhongqin pushed their way into the bus, Zhongmei carrying the small cloth suitcase that Zhongqin had bought for the occasion at the local department store—none of the Li children had really been anyplace before, so they didn't have any travel accessories. There was a good deal of pushing and shoving as passengers scrambled to find seats, or risk having to stand in the aisle all the way to Hegang. Zhongqin was lucky to get a spot in the very first row just behind the driver. She relieved Zhongmei of the suitcase and put it on her lap. Zhongmei, a bit less lucky, sat on the cushioned engine cover that occupied the front part of the aisle, which warmed up from the heat of the engine and vibrated the whole way to Hegang.
Zhongmei watched as the bus driver revved up the engine and put it noisily into gear. She turned to wave to her friends and family, but the bus kicked up such a thick cloud of dust and smoke as it roared into motion that nobody was visible. Zhongmei felt a wave of disappointment at that, but then she figured it didn't really matter. For weeks everybody had been telling her that she was bound to fail in Beijing and would be back in Baoquanling pretty soon, after which everything else would go back to the way it had been before—except that her hard-pressed family would have to pay back the money they borrowed for one expensive train tricket. This was not what Zhongmei hoped for, and she was determined not to fail. And yet so many people seemed to think that she was making this big trip for nothing that she had begun to wonder if, maybe, they were right.
The flat, straight road leading out of Baoquanling was lined with gray birch trees whose trunks were painted white so they could be easily seen at night. It teemed with bicycles, oxcarts, and three-wheeled farm trucks filled with trussed pigs, slatted chicken crates, bricks, cinder blocks, mounds of cabbages or turnips or eggplants or straw, or mesh bags bulging with garlic heads, onions, potatoes, beets, and white Chinese radishes. Blackbirds perched on the electricity wires strung across the endless rank of telephone poles parallel to the road.
The bus rumbled and bounced on the rutted track. Trucks, crowded with farm workers whose legs dangled over the edges of their flat wooden beds, passed from the other direction. They were being taken to Baoquanling's more distant fields, and Zhongmei strained to see if her mother was among them, since she was a fieldworker herself who often traveled that way, but she caught no glimpse of her. Her bones beat to the vibration of the engine. Her bottom was warm.
In the distance on the left side of the bus was a range of purple hills where in the spring and summer members of Zhongmei's family searched for medicinal herbs and mushrooms. These were the peaks in the name of Zhongmei's hometown, whose three Chinese characters, Bao Quan Ling, mean "Precious Water from the Mountain Peaks," and Zhongmei remembered her excursions there with her two sisters. As the youngest, Zhongmei was only allowed to go to the crest of the first hill, where the sisters gathered pine nuts and mushrooms. Wolves lived beyond that spot and over the next hills, and often at night the Li family could hear their distant howling. Sometimes one of Zhongmei's older cousins went deep into the mountains to hunt for wild turkey and pheasant, and when he was successful, there was meat for dinner, a rare event for the people of Baoquanling.
Once Zhongmei's younger brother, Li Feng, got sick, and her second sister, Zhongling, took it on herself to go into the mountains to gather a special grass that could be brewed into a medicinal tea. Zhongling climbed through the woods and over the first hill where the sisters usually stopped for their mushrooms and nuts. She walked over the second hill and into a valley where, as she gathered the grass, she noticed two puppies in a nest of leaves and twigs under a big tree. Or at least she thought they were puppies. They were cute and playful. Happily Zhongling put them into her sack and brought them home, shepherding them under a table in the kitchen and feeding them some scraps.
That night the howling of the wolves wasn't as far away as it usually was. It was alarmingly close. There was a scraping noise just outside the house, canine nails sliding down the brick walls. Suddenly the gray head of a wolf, its fangs showing, appeared in a window, just like Zhongmei imagined in the story of the three pigs, which she'd read at school. It seemed to be looking inside the house, trying to find what everybody now knew were wolf pups, not dog pups. Zhongmei remembered not sleeping much that night as she huddled against her big sisters, listening to the wolves as they prowled outside, sniffing at the window, scratching the walls, howling at the moon just outside the gate.
"Don't be scared," Zhongqin said to Zhongmei and to Li Feng, who was equally terrified. "It's a strong brick house."
Zhongmei finally fell asleep, and when she woke up at dawn, the wolves had left. A car belonging to the state farm was called. Zhongling put the two adorable wolf pups in her sack, scurried through the yard, ran out the gate, and jumped into the car, looking out for the wolves she feared might still be roaming the alley outside the house. Carrying the sack over her shoulder, she climbed over the first hill and, not daring to go any farther, released the two pups, and then watched as they scampered over the hill toward the deep forest. That night, Zhongmei remembered, now smiling at the thought, the howling of the wolves was reassuringly far away, though it was still a little scary.
Posted December 2, 2012
A girl named Faithful Plum
Richard Bernstein was able to tell me story of Zhongmei in a way that I really enjoyed what I was reading. It was interesting to get a look into a lifestyle completely different than my own. It was hard to believe that a girl who was just a couple years younger than me, was able to make a life-changing decision to pursue her dream of becoming an elite dancer in a country where opportunities are rare.
It’s hard to comprehend that when a family like the Li family is so poor they can actually give away their child to a couple or family, like the Wong family, who could provide for them in a better way. Zhongmei’s struggle with eating was another interesting point that can be impossible for many young girls to overcome.
I believe that her travels from the poor farm lifestyle to an overcrowded city like Beijing was very similar to her journey from an innocent young girl to a woman who is now the most famous dancer in Beijing. She had the raw talent necessary for the dance company director to help mold her into a world-class dancer through hard and even sometimes cruel methods.
All in all it was one of the only books that I truly enjoyed. I would strongly encourage anybody, boy or girl, to give this book a chance.
3 out of 3 people found this review helpful.Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.
Posted November 16, 2012
Saturn woke up one moring aw usual and got dressed in her uniform...two yellow rings circled her body and two smaller ones on each wrist,floating.she ran down stairs and rocketed of to Tech Headquarters. She landed at the brass doors and took a deep vreath as they opened. "Here we go..." she murmured and opened the doors,the halls dilled with people in lab coats and robots hurrying by. She walked to a elevator with a robot inside. "Nineteeenth floor plz,Abercrombie." She said and a glowing blue board appeared in her hands as well as a pencil behind her ear...the elevator buzzed as they approached the top floor...she walked out of the elevater as it stopped,and walked forward to two brass doors with two silver handels,one for each door. She opened the door as well as knocking and the tall inny man in a lab was at a desk with a woman with short red hair with a mint green uniform. Her name tag read,Yoshi. The man's name tag read,Dr. Johnson,or as Saturn calls him,by his real name,Crimson,or just Doctor. "So,Crimson. What the hulubaloo about?" Said Saturn looking at the big screen in front of them with a picture of a fierce looking teen boy with black,metal,and messy hair. And a light mint green face and a red,metal shirt with black,metal pants. To Saturn,he looked heart-breakingly cute. "Whos he?" She said. "His name is Cosmo,built by an advanced robot scientist." Said Crimson. "He is built for speed,and the destruction of Electro City...no one knows why he is out to destroy Electro City,but he's strong..." said Yoshi. "And cute..." muttered Saturn. "We need u to stop him." Said crimson firmly. "The fate of a thousand lives rest on your shoulders,u think u can take 'em?" Said Crimson. "Totaly." Said Saturn. She turned her left arm into a atom cannon. "Were do i start?" She said to Crimson. (End of part one.)
1 out of 2 people found this review helpful.Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.
Posted February 11, 2012
This was an amazing true story of one girls determination and struggles. An excellant book for all ages. I could not put this book down. I can not believe how many struggles she went through yet she still practiced and practiced. It is so mean they called her a "Country Bumpkin" but here she is now as one of the best dancers of China. I could not put this book down and I highly reccomend it for anybody.
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Posted January 16, 2012
This is truly an amazing story about an 11-year-old girl in China overcoming seemingly insurmountable obstacles to become a famous dancer. I was not able to put it down till the end. Besides the riveting personal story, one also learns about life life in China and the stringent training methods used in this residential ballet school.
A page turner for any age reader!
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Posted January 13, 2012
Posted February 17, 2013
This is the best bigraphy i have ever read!!!! Zhongmei is so interseting, and reading her storie shows kids how grateful the areto be able to go to not so strict school.... i share her passion for dancing ( and her birthday) and i really can relate to this story, d this girl. Thanks Robert Berstein for this wonderful book.Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.
Posted January 25, 2013
Posted November 17, 2012